Soul-Bonded
by UniquelyMi
Summary: All the universe wanted was one person to (hopefully) stop that annoying wizard dabbling in forbidden magics. It didn't count on getting two. Voldemort tries to kill Harry and Neville with a single curse, which has consequences nobody could dream of. Inspired by Harry-isn't-the-boy-who-lived fics.
1. A Prank and a Curse

**Prologue**

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._

Magic, as any pre-Merlin witch or wizard would tell you, turned your will and belief into reality. And though rituals existed, and certain things of nature had their properties, and most magical practitioners could feel magic, in the end, it was through language (which, after all, was how all humans, magical or not, expressed themselves) that all magic was based.

An experienced witch or wizard had attuned to the magic that ran through the earth so finely that he or she could speak a few words, using a piece of wood containing a part of a being of magic for a conduct, and, if it was small enough, it would happen. (For larger magics, nature had its magical inertia, and it had to be persuaded.) There was further a subset of witches and wizards with a strange connection to magic, such that, even without the use of a conduct, they could seem to alter the universe to their desires.

Of course, as words were power, all pre-Merlin magical children grew up learning to treat words extremely respectfully. That is, all magical children born to magical parents. This unsurprisingly lead to unfortunate magical accidents from what were then called magbobs (later Muggleborns), but it was really only after Rosaline Addinell, a gifted but unfortunately temperamental witch, said a curse and nearly destroyed Hogwarts that the subject of whether magbobs were qualified to handle magic really came up.

That was until a brilliant if relatively magically untalented wizard called Merlin (he had no other name, even then) with a grand ambition to stop this problem found a solution. He invented a system of specific spells to be taught to all children that could do certain things and would be based in an older language (he chose Latin). This effectively separated words of magic from words of everyday speech, eliminating most of the problems. But even that was not enough for him. He realized that even that would not be enough to safeguard them from the magicals with the strongest connection to magic. After years of exploring magic he realized that these people's _words_ became a conduct for magic, whether magic wanted it or not, and developed a method to prevent them from doing this except at magic's request. Because what these people said became reality, they were eventually dubbed Seers. (It only took a few centuries for people to forget exactly what Merlin had done.)

But enough of history! When a wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort, through his unbalanced explorations into the deepest depths of magic, threw the universe off-kilter, it naturally had to rebalance. It chose a Seer named Sybill Trelawney to right itself.

And so, on October 31st, sometime between 8:00 and 9:00 pm, the Potters found themselves with an unexpected guest.

On that day, it so happened, they were not alone. Though in some worlds they were not, in this particular one Lily, now Potter, and Alice, now Longbottom, had been inseparable throughout Hogwarts (though Alice could not understand what Lily saw in Severus). When the prophecy was revealed, it was only natural that Lily and Alice visited each other frequently.

In the spirit of Halloween, James had charmed Alice to look like Frank, Frank to look like James, James to look like Lily, and Lily to look like Alice. Lily tried to explain that dressing up was not supposed to be like this and Frank protested that he really didn't want to look like James, but in the end they had all laughed and tried to adapt to wearing other bodies.

"The boys are asleep," Lily-looking-like-Alice said.

"Are you sure?" Frank-looking-like-James asked worriedly. "Neville's been known to fake it."

James-looking-like-Lily gave him an incredulous look. "You're kidding. Sweet, innocent little Neville, pretending to be anything?"

"That's what you said about Harry," Lily-looking-like-Alice pointed out.

"He loves plants," Alice-looking-like-Frank explained. "So at night he'll try to crawl out of his bed and out the window to see the plants that only open when the moon shines. He made it all the way into the greenhouse without us knowing a thing once."

Lily-looking-like-Alice was halfway through a laugh when the door was blasted open.

Voldemort.

They seized their wands immediately, and moved as one. Frank-looking-like-James and James-looking-like-Lily ran forwards immediately to combat Voldemort. Even as terrified as Lily-looking-like-Alice and Alice-looking-like-Frank were, they exchanged a look that clearly said, "Men."

The two of them took up stations behind them, knowing that four people dueling one was worse than two in such a small space, grimly ready to be the last line of defense for their children.

It was all they could do to not join in the fight, but their common sense (and Alice's training) held. Frank-looking-like-James and James-looking-like-Lily were excellent duelers in their own right, but neither of them were particularly comfortable in their fake bodies (that even James could not dispel until midnight) and even normally, were no match for Voldemort, who had spent decades delving into such arcane magics that Lily was impressed against her will. Horrified, but taking notes.

There was a loud bang and both Frank-looking-like-James and James-looking-like-Lily were blasted aside. A wave of his wand and Frank-looking-like-James was dead (Lily-looking-like-Alice shot a quick, temporary silencing charm at Alice-looking-like-Frank when she looked like she was going to scream) but they were both shocked to see Voldemort allow James-looking-like-Lily to clamber to his feet, clutching his wand tighter.

"You cannot win," Voldemort said, his silky voice soft. "Step aside, you silly girl. My business is not with you."

The look James-looking-like-Lily wore was not out of place on Lily's visage - the sharp, narrowed eyes, fury in every line. When he spoke, it was low and sibilant. "You will never touch -"

That was all he got before Voldemort flicked his wand carelessly, blasting him out of his way. Lily-looking-like-Alice and Alice-looking-like-Frank barely had time to wonder that Voldemort had killed who he thought was James, a pureblood (even if only barely and not from a "noble" family) but left who he thought was Lily alive before he noticed them. His eyes widened imperceptibly, revealing his shock at their presence.

His lips curled into a smile. "Both boys, here at once? I hardly know which one to kill first."

Faster than the eye could see, Lily-looking-like-Alice and Alice-looking-like-Frank slashed their wands, but the spells dissolved before they could reach him. With a twirl and an incantation, Lily-looking-like-Alice made the dust on the floor fly up to blanket his eyes, nose, and mouth. Voldemort struggled for a moment to duel blindly before he forced the dust off and at them. Lily-looking-like-Alice flicked her wand and it formed a blob that attacked Voldemort while Alice-looking-like-Frank shot rings of fire at him, which he parried and returned in the form of a fire-serpent that ate the blob of dust. The fire-serpent hissed as it hit the shield of water Alice-looking-like-Frank put up and Lily-looking-like-Alice immediately sent a modified bubble-head charm at Voldemort.

Spells flew thickly through the air, and through the corner of her eye Lily-looking-like-Alice noticed James running toward the nursery as silently as possible. She immediately had to duck a killing curse and returned with a switching spell to switch his heart with a knife. Like the others, it was blocked seemingly effortlessly and Voldemort uttered a word they had never _heard_ of, which an instinctive shield blocked. Their wands flashed through spell-patterns and all duelers could _feel_ the magic in the air.

But the real difficulty with fighting Voldemort was not speed or power. It was that, while others fought with spells and transfigurations, Voldemort (like Dumbledore), seemed to be able to use pure _magic_, the only description that seemed plausible. They felt whatever he had done before it came, but it passed through their shields to pick them up and hang them in the air helplessly.

"I do not," he said finally, "want to spill noble blood more than I have to. Propagate, continue your line, for your children will be of noble stock."

They felt themselves drop, but could do nothing before the world went black.

Voldemort continued on, his way now unimpeded. When he entered the small nursery, however, he found that Lily-who-was-actually-James was already in there.

She was a nuisance, but Severus begging him for her life gave him pause again. He knew, after all, that magical ability was sometimes indiscriminate of blood, and by all accounts, Lily Potter had that. From Severus's accounts, she had had control of her "accidental" magic from a young age, much like himself.

"Move aside," he repeated himself. "My business is not with you."

"Don't touch them!" She sounded desperate now, clutching her wand tighter and throwing herself protectively in front of the two boys in the crib.

"Move aside, you silly girl!"

Impatient when she refused, he killed her, and she crumpled down, lifeless.

Finally, he reached his goal - or, perhaps it was better to say, goals. The two boys, one dark haired, the other lighter, were sitting, foreheads pressed together, looking at something the lighter haired one was holding which was clearly more interesting than whatever game the big people had been playing. Voldemort thinned his lips, annoyed at being ignored, but as he raised his wand to force them to look at him, it occurred to him that they were close enough that he could take them both out with a single curse. A smile curved his lips. How fitting.

Intent on his victims, he did not notice the magic that was building up, so thick that you could cut it with a knife, centered on the oblivious boys.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light splayed on their adjoined foreheads, and then pain, more than anything else, as Voldemort was ripped from his body, part of his soul tearing off. He fled, less than ghost but more than dead, as an explosion shook the house.


	2. Setting the Scene

**Setting the Scene**

Lily and Alice were discovered, the spell worn off, unconscious and badly injured but alive. Above, Harry and Neville slept peacefully, without a scratch except for the scar on their forehead. A detection charm revealed that they had been hit by a killing curse.

While the rest of the wizarding world celebrated, Lily and Alice made funeral arrangements for their husbands. They made a mutual agreement to move in together with Frank's formidable but caring mother, who accepted their comfort gratefully. Though she preferred not to display affection, Frank had been very dear to her. Lily left their house in Godric's Hollow to the Ministry. She was less grateful when Sirius, dragging Remus with him, insisted on coming with them, but there was really nothing she could say when he pulled the "I'm a Black and therefore family" card.

Living with each other was not just for the support. If Dumbledore was right (and he usually was), part of Voldemort's soul had followed his killing curse. When the curse had targeted both of them, his soul had gone into both of them to make them _together_ a living horcrux. James's sacrifice only complicated matters, but to make a long story short, Harry and Neville had a connection to each other as well as Voldemort. Like twins but even closer, they could see each other's thoughts, know where the other was, and feel how the other was feeling.

Apart from regular visits to Diagon Alley, Harry and Neville lived away from public eye. That was not to say, of course, that they did not talk to others. Because of the Longbottoms' prestige, the two boys were introduced to families such as the Abbots, Parkinsons, Bones, Weasleys, Tonkses, Patils, Weasleys, Macmillans, and even Malfoys. The latter was heavily protested by Sirius, but Augusta calmly pointed out that Narcissa was a Black, and therefore family, leaving Sirius so shocked that she had a sense of humor he forgot to retort.

Within their circle of acquaintances, it was generally agreed that Harry, his natural charisma carefully honed by Lily and Augusta, would be the one to defeat Voldemort. Neville didn't mind. He liked making things _grow_, after all, not die, and besides, anything that kept him away from social butterflies and in his greenhouse was good. He was slightly jealous at the fact that Harry beat him in all their lessons taught by his Grandmother and Remus (as the other three adults worked - Lily as an Unspeakable and Alice and Sirius as Aurors, lessons went to those two) and had his mother's control over his not-so-accidental magic, but that was mollified by the fact that passionate, heart-on-his-sleeve Harry had no talent at all at Occlumency or Legilimency, while it came almost naturally to Neville. And besides, that meant that their teacher, Professor Snape (he didn't quite have the courage to call him 'Severus', even though he had long since made amends with Aunt Lily and practically moved in over the summer, to Sirius's chagrin), was more forgiving of his potions mistakes than Harry's.

Yes, Neville had long since accepted that this was Harry's stage, not his.

A pity no one told the stage.

* * *

It was a warm summer day, the hint of a fall breeze making the trees shake and ripples pass through the grass. Neville sat outside on the hill, looking down at what passed for them as a Quidditch pitch. Footsteps sounded from behind him - Harry's footsteps. Neville resisted the urge to grin. From what he could sense, Harry was extremely protectively irritated. That did not come as a surprise; Harry had a "saving people thing" and consequently was quite frequently protectively irritated.

He could practically feel Harry's scowl as he plopped down and nobly refrained from making a comment about Harry's poor Occlumency skills, despite the temptation. Gently, he probed Harry's mind, trying to feel his thoughts. One of the things about their mysterious link was that they did not require eye contact or even proximity to Legilimize each other.

Either Harry's Occlumency wasn't that bad or Neville's Legilimency that good (probably the latter) because Harry spun to glare at Neville. "You could have _asked_," he said with a huff.

"I could have," Neville acknowledged. "What's the problem? You weren't like this when Grandmother called you in."

Harry changed the direction of his glare to the sky. "They - all of our adults - were talking about arranging dueling training for me after we start Hogwarts in the fall."

"So?" Neville asked, knowing that Harry was more than eager to start that and expecting him to excel. "That's not unreasonable, especially considering what Fate's claimed you to do."

"_Me_," Harry stressed. "They didn't even mention you!" Neville thought amusedly that only Harry would get himself worked up into such a state on someone else's behalf, soul-brother or no. "And when I asked if you were doing it separately or something, Grandmother -" Augusta had as good as him as her own "- coughed and said something about it being best if you didn't start so soon." He scowled. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived too."

"You know I don't actually mind," Neville said. "I'm more than glad to hand the responsibility of killing one of the most feared wizards in magical history over to you."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, a note of concern in his green eyes.

Neville smiled. "You can feel my emotions, Harry. Am I sure?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're harder to break into than Gringotts, Nev. You could stop Occluding."

Neville just looked at him.

"Oh, come on! It's just me," Harry protested. "We have this awesome magical link and you completely shut it down. Seriously?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Neville said, suppressing a smile. "I can feel _you_ perfectly fine."

The next moment Harry lunged for him and he was up and running, breathlessly, toward the house, dodging behind a bush and asking it to delay Harry for a moment. He took off without waiting to see what it was doing. He was making good progress but could feel Harry coming closer and closer.

Then - wham! Neville found himself on the floor, completely disoriented. He looked up, ignoring his back's protests, and saw their house elf staring down at him, looking pleased with herself.

"Topsy!" He protested.

"Topsy thinks that if Master Neville isn't watching where he's going, Master Neville deserves to fall," she said primly, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes.

Neville stared at her, aghast. Finally he shook his head and said, "You've been around Sirius too long."

Harry chose that moment to leap onto Neville, making him wince as, for the second time in the space of a minute, he was rammed into the ground. "Got you!"

If Neville had any air in his lungs, he would have laughed. As it was, he grunted and pushed Harry off. "Topsy got me," he corrected.

Harry stood, brushing of dust, and nodded to Topsy. "Your assistance was appreciated," he said gravely to the tiny house elf, who scowled furiously.

"Master Harry should be chasing less and caring more about his clothes," she said, clucking. "Master Harry needs to be giving those to Topsy so she can be mending them."

Neville made a choked sound of laughter that he didn't turn into a cough quickly enough, and Topsy whirled on him. "Topsy is thinking that Master Neville should not be laughing as _his_ gardening clothes are in a simply egregious condition."

Over Topsy's head, Harry gave Neville a smirk.

"Topsy saw that, Master Harry!"

"Can't fool a house-elf, Harry, don't you know that?" Neville teased.

Harry stuck his tongue out.

"Yous is going to Hogwarts soon, Master Harry," Topsy reprimanded, her high-pitched voice stern. "Yous is should not be engaging in such inappropriate behavior."

"I can't win," Harry muttered. When Topsy looked at him he smiled. "I'll miss you, Topsy."

"Master Harry better be eating his vegetables," Topsy reminded him. She pinned Neville with his gaze. "And Master Neville too."

Though eating vegetables always made Neville feel guilty (after all, the poor plants couldn't even fight back!) and like he was eating a friend's cousin (albeit distant), he nodded obediently. The only thing more futile than disobeying Grandmother was disobeying their house elf. And besides, he wasn't _stupid_. He knew that he needed to eat vegetables.

"Topsy will be warning the Hogwarts house elves about you two, yes, yes she will," she added in a prim voice.

Neville could feel Harry's retort pressing against his tongue, but instead he said, "I can't believe we're _finally_ going to Hogwarts!" He grinned at Neville. "Think about -"

Topsy covered her ears. "Topsy is not be listening to what you two rambunctious idiots will be getting up to, oh no, Topsy is not," she muttered as she walked away.

"Thanks!" Harry called after her. "You're a dear!" To Neville he said, "Do you think any of the Hogwarts house elves will be more interested in aiding and abetting?"

"Topsy does that – with Padfoot," Neville pointed out. He narrowed his eyes as Harry opening his mouth, his perfected innocent expression belying the mischief his mind was practically screaming for the world to hear. "I know what you're thinking and the answer is no."

"Please?"

"If you think I'm going to help you with pranks you've got another thing coming," Neville said immediately. "If you hadn't noticed, I want Professor Sprout to let me in her greenhouses."

Harry waved that off. "Oh, please," he said. "She's going to love you – even Grandmother admits you're talented and you know how she is."

Neville couldn't help blushing. "That's not much against everything else about me," he muttered.

A flare of the protective irritation he had sensed before. "Neville, you're not allowed to think that way or I'll tell Aunt Alice."

"Mum's busy!" Neville protested. Though the war had ended, Alice Longbottom was still working tirelessly to convict the remaining death eaters, make the public appearances she was required to de facto, get laws passed for improved equality, and keep the two children out of public view to the best of her ability.

Though Harry's Legilimency was even worse than his Occlumency, he fixed Neville with a stern glance reminiscent of Topsy. "I know you're doing it. You can't let Grandmother's or anyone's expectations get to you, Neville," he lectured. "You're miles ahead of me in the mind arts and even Uncle Sev thinks you're impressively good, and I don't need to start on your Herbology skills because I swear, you could make a Devil's Snare grow in daylight…"

"… and Hagrid says you have a gift with animals while I can't _look_ at a bowtruckle without it drawing blood so you just need to focus on the things you're good at and stop comparing. _I_ think you're amazing."

The sincerity and even passion in his voice made Neville feel a lump in his throat, touched despite having heard Harry go off like this before. He even felt like he could agree with Harry – but that was just Harry's natural charm. If he started on you, you were lost. The only people who seemed completely impervious were Topsy and Uncle Severus – soon to be Professor Snape.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. And then he was obliged to add, "Of course, don't think you can get me to help you in your evil plots."

Harry sighed and shook his head sadly "One of these days..." He brightened. "Maybe Ron and I will manage to get the twins at Hogwarts!"

Of all the families they knew, Harry and Neville had taken to the Weasleys the best – probably because they were the only one with a large family and there was something about the atmosphere about their house that was just _different_. Besides, as they had also been involved in the Order, forming connections had been easy. (It didn't hurt that they had a lot of boys.)

"Harry," Neville said in a sweet voice, "do you happen to know Hogwart's motto?"

"They tickled _us_!" Harry protested stubbornly.

"Of course, Harry."

* * *

On September 1st, the whole family (though they weren't a family so much as a conglomerate of people with close ties to James and Frank) except for Severus turned up to send them off.

Surprisingly, they hadn't been mobbed, though quite a few people pointed at their twin scars, but it seemed that most people were too busy with their farewells to bother.

"- and remember," Aunt Lily was still saying, "that Legilimency is a testing violation!"

Sirius winked at them. "So don't get caught."

"Sirius Black!"

"I know, love you, mum," Harry said as he gave her a hug and a quick kiss. He and Neville did the same with the other adults before quickly jumping on the train, waving at them until they were out of sight.

There was silence for a moment.

"So," Harry said. "Do you want to find a seat and plot cool ways to use our awesome mental link, which I will be abbreviating as our AML from now on?"

Neville rolled his eyes fondly but followed Harry as he opened the door of the nearest compartment.

He registered an excited feeling that went something like, "Oh, look, there's someone we don't know in here!"

"Hi!" Harry said brightly at whoever was inside. "May we sit here?"

"Certainly," a surprised voice said. Without further encouragement, Harry walked in, followed by Neville.

There was indeed someone Neville had not met before inside, her brown hair almost as untamable as Harry's mop. She was reading a book that would have completely hidden her face had she not lowered it slightly to look at them.

"I'm Harry, and this is Neville," he introduced.

"Hermione Granger," she said, lowering her book further. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent as she surveyed them. "You're Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, aren't you?" When they nodded, Neville more tentatively than Harry, she gasped and Neville braced himself for an effusion of delight. Indeed, she said, "I've read all about you – I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ and the 9th edition of _Magical Mysteries_." She looked at them curiously. "_Do_ you know how your connection works? I wanted to find a book pertaining to the subject – I can't stand not knowing something and you're quite well-known, you know – but my parents wouldn't let me."

Harry laughed. "Believe me, we don't know either, though mum works in the field. You need to look up both mind and soul related magic, though, if you're really interested, and if you come up with something I'll tell mum. It's a bit like Euler's identity, you know, , er, if you know it -"

Before he had time to look embarrassed for going off about muggle maths, he was arrested by her severely insulted look. "Well, of course I know Euler's identity!"

Neville repressed a snicker as Harry said hastily, "Sorry! It's just that arithmancy doesn't always use the same concepts as math and I don't actually know which ones belong to which. Mum's all for mixing them, after all."

She appeared mollified. "Well, I've never heard of arithmancy until this summer – other than what people _think_ is arithmancy, of course." Muggleborn, Neville noted. "But you don't sound like it's for predicting the future, which is what I've heard." She was clearly quite skeptical of that discipline, and Neville wondered what she would think of the prophecy that had taken down Voldemort.

"Well, there's certainly numerology involved, of course, but I think with basic muggle maths and physics you can predict where an object will land perfectly fine, can't you?"

Hermione burst into startled laughter. "I suppose I can imagine how that could be misconstrued in such a fashion," she said thoughtfully. "Especially in the dark ages, if someone worked out when a solar eclipse would occur. So, are mind magics trigonometric or exponential functions?"

Neville's initial impression of her as another fan girl was rapidly being replaced by her display.

"Of course, it doesn't correlate exactly, but they postulate that the relationship between mind and soul magics can be represented in a similar fashion," Harry pointed out. "That is to say, of course, that we don't really know. This is rather new."

"Right," Hermione said. She was looking at their scars with new interest. "That's ever so interesting – what theories are there?"

The two of them promptly engaged in a conversation on Lily's work, which quickly diverted into a general comparison of arithmancy and muggle maths. Neville would have been mostly content with sitting out and just listening, but Harry insisted on dragging him in, asking him for confirmation and, later, the uses of arithmancy in Herbology.

"Already replaced me, Harry?" The compartment door slid open and all of them jumped, only to relax when they saw it was Ron. "I'm wounded."

Three years after Aunt Lily had discovered that Ron had, to their surprise, an affinity for maths, his budding insecurity had diminished greatly. As Neville could say first hand, having a lot to live up to was far easier when you had talents of your own.

"This is Ronald Weasley, but everyone calls him Ron," Harry introduced. "You wouldn't believe it, but he's actually rather good at arithmancy. He'll tell you sometimes that all he's good for is chess and quidditch facts – don't listen. Ron, this is Hermione Granger."

"I'm telling you, arithmancy's just like chess!" Ron protested. "You have a bunch of moves you can do which you have to put together to get to the solution!"

For the first time since they had met her, Hermione Granger was rendered completely speechless.

* * *

"Very interesting, yes, very interesting," a small voice said in his ear. "No, don't bother Occluding – I don't work like that. How do I work? Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

Neville mentally stuck out his tongue and resolved to ask Aunt Lily.

"Oh, you can find something closer than that, I'm sure. Now, let's see, a healthy bit of a competitive spirit – mind you don't let it sour into resentment – but no particular thirst to prove yourself but _oh_, you could go places if you were taught to seek -"

In all his life, Neville had never honestly considered Slytherin as a house for himself.

"No, you're right, you're not suited. Hm, difficult, yes, well, with your distaste for fighting, love for everything that grows, and aptitude for the mental arts, I suppose you better be RAVENCLAW!"

As Neville stood, feeling slightly dazed, he thought he heard, "I look forward to our next meeting, and don't forget to give me to the professor," but perhaps it was just his imagination.

Still, the reminder prompted him to hand the hat back to Professor McGonagall before walking toward the cheering table where he sat next to Hermione Granger from the train, wondering if the Sorting hat was quite sane after all those years.

He only jerked out of the stupor when Harry went, with his usual good cheer, to Hufflepuff.

**Just an idea I had after reading so many Harry-isn't-the-boy-who-lived fics (where Harry usually is the boy-who-lived but everyone thinks it's his twin). I might post more in this universe as ideas come, but anyone's welcome to use the idea. If I do continue, I'll probably try to explore their scars further as well as the ramifications of this alternate universe.**

**Note: I know arithmancy actually is supposed to be a method of finding the future, but there's not enough evidence in canon and I can't see Hermione enjoying it so much, so I'm just going to go with Hermione's complex charts being trigonometric charts or something of the sort.**


End file.
